I am stepping off my soapbox today to discuss pooping and peeing.

(Before anyone gets too excited, I am more specifically referring to my dog's pooping and peeing, not my own. I wish those of you who are fascinated with the latter would stop writing me. You know who you are.)

I find it fascinating that Goblin, with her minuscule bowels and bladder, can go so long without going to the bathroom, even though she eats meals as large as her head and goes through two bowls of water a day. She easily survives twelve hours overnight, and there have been longer, even more heroic efforts on days I slept late. I suppose, really, it is her only task in life: holding it until it is time to go out. She does it well.

Recently, on our longer walks, she has taken to pooping twice. I think it confuses her that her first poop is so celebrated and her second poop is met with frustration, but she does sense the difference. After her first, she glows with pride, but after her second, she often seems embarrassed. It is not her fault, really, that I usually do not bring more than one poop bag, and already having discarded the first, I must then cast around for something to clean up with. If I step away from the scene of the crime, even if it is to pick up a distant piece of litter to scoop the poop, I am met with the angry stares of passers-by who think I mean to leave it in middle of the sidewalk.

Really, they should walk a mile in my shoes. Or Goblin's booties.